


Mismatched

by likeabluethread



Category: Inu x Boku Secret Service | The Dog and Me Secret Service (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 06:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14970770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeabluethread/pseuds/likeabluethread
Summary: How is there so little smut in this fandom?? Ririchiyo ends up in trouble and Miketsukami saves the day. Unrepentant fluff, PWP.





	Mismatched

In the months after Miketsukami had followed Ririchiyo to the empty playground – in the months after she had confessed her love to him, trembling so hard she'd nearly fainted – the two of them spent more and more time together. They talked, they walked, they went on trips, they drank coffee together. They tried to be open with each other. She worked hard to notice him, to learn his expressions and his moods; she also tried to soften her reflexive rudeness and be kinder to him. He made her want to be a better person. She was happy with their relationship. She was.

But something was wrong. He still acted as her bodyguard, as her faithful servant, to her neverending frustration. When they were together in public, he deferred to her, pampered her, bowed and scraped and prostrated himself before her. That artificial distance between them infuriated her, as did the way he demeaned himself. At the same time, in private, Miketsukami's teasing was getting bolder; he had even stolen a few fleeting kisses. And as for those times – well. Every time he tried to get close to her, every time he got that predatory look in his eyes, every time he leaned too close and her heart started to pound so hard she couldn't catch her breath – every time, she would shy away from him like a spooked horse. She was growing more and more frustrated with herself. She wanted intimacy, but at the same time it frightened her.

...

Then came on her birthday, a cold Saturday at the end of February.

As it happened, the girls in her class had arranged a "girls' night out" with dancing at a club on the night of her birthday – a coincidence, Ririchiyo knew, but once Roromiya Karuta pointed out in her quiet, implacable way that it was Ririchiyo's birthday, her classmates wouldn't let her demur. In her anxiety and discomfort, she postured and scoffed, but in the end Karuta simply accepted the invitation for both of them. It was hard to imagine being in a club with Karuta, let alone these girls she saw so often and yet hardly knew, but there was just no refusing – and Ririchiyo determined that this would be a good experience for her. She would go.

On the day it was to happen, although her stomach was churning with excitement and dread, Ririchiyo decided to go shopping. Despite Nobara's lecherous pleas, she took only Miketsukami with her. He told her that she looked beautiful in everything she tried on, it was true, but … she had noticed that a few things made his eyes narrow in a way that made her blood run hot. If she wanted to be sure she looked the part for tonight, she wanted his reactions. And she knew that she could read him.

They walked through town arm in arm, now finally acting more like lovers than like some spoiled princess with her retinue. Ririchiyo reveled in it, pressing close to his side in the cold wind. Their breath mingled in a white cloud in front of them, and she nestled down into her scarf to hide a smile.

After considering the offerings in a number of shop windows, Ririchiyo found a store with dresses that struck an appropriate balance of trendy and timeless, that both suited her taste and was a bit outside of her normal style. With a deep breath, she led them in.

Of course it was Miketsukami who found the perfect dress. It was black, tighter than anything she usually wore, held up by narrow straps. She seldom wore anything form-fitting, liking the flare of looser skirts around her slender hips, but there was something magical about this one. She stepped out of the dressing room hesitantly, unsure if the womanly silhouette she'd seen in the mirror inside was all in her head, but the look on Miketsukami's face erased all her doubt. There was a hunger there, a need that made her dizzy with a strange sense of power.

On whim, she demanded a pair of high heels from the store attendant. Her tiny form usually looked silly in heels, like a sparrow tottering around on stilts, but something about this dress made her feel like this was the day. Skilled hands guided her to a tufted ottoman, then lifted first one ankle then the other to slide strappy black stilettos onto her little feet. She stood, shocked by the difference a few inches of height could make in her perspective on the world, and looked herself over in the mirror. She met Miketsukami's eyes over her shoulder; a spark passed between them, and she shivered. Yes.

They wandered home, Ririchiyo's precious purchases tucked under Miketsukami's arm. Suddenly Ririchiyo stopped, her attention on the bright white of the sky.

"Ririchiyo-sama?" Miketsukami asked. She needed to break him of that habit, she thought, but for the moment she had a more pressing observation to make.

"Snow," she whispered, turning her face to the sky and smiling at the brush of tiny flakes against her cheeks.

When she opened her eyes, Miktsukami was also looking up at the sky, but he was frowning. "Are you certain you wish to go out tonight?" he asked, turning to her with concern in his mismatched eyes.

"Hmph," she snorted disdainfully, her hair swinging as she dismissed the idea with a toss of her head, "a little snow won't make any difference." She realized, too late, that she'd put up her rude front again, and forced herself to drop her pretense and meet his eyes honestly. "But thank you for worrying."

"Oy!" came a rough voice from the street, startling both of them. Before Ririchiyo could even blink, Miketsukami was standing between her and the stranger who'd shouted at them. She peered around his shoulder: there was a big, mean-looking man leaning out the driver's side window of a beat-up car, and he looked furious. "Oy!" he shouted again. "You there – your name Miketsukami Soushi?"

Miketsukami's eyes narrowed, but he bowed his head, always the consummate servant. "That is correct, sir."

"You asshole," the man snarled, opening the door and getting out of his car. "You mother-fucking asshole – I'll fucking rip you apart!" Miketsukami crouched defensively, fully blocking Ririchiyo from the man's view as he started towards them. Before he'd even reached the sidewalk, though, he was stopped by the blaring of a car horn behind him. He waved his middle finger at the offender, but they didn't stop – and in a moment one car horn turned into a cacophony. He turned and saw that he had completely blocked traffic on a busy road.

"All right, you prick, you got lucky this time," he growled, turning back to his car. "But I swear to god if I ever see you or your ugly whore again I will fucking rip you to pieces!" Still swearing, he climbed back into his car, waved his middle finger at his rear-view mirror, and drove off.

Ririchiyo let out a shaky breath. "Who was that?" she asked, laying a hand on Miketsukami's shoulder. He leapt at her touch as though she'd burned him.

"I've never seen that man before in my life," he answered, his face tightly guarded. She reached up a slender hand and touched his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"It doesn't matter," she whispered, and he shook his head once, decisively, capturing her hand against his cheek with his own.

"I should kill him for what he said about you."

She huffed irritably. "More than for what he said about you?" He opened his eyes, confused. "Miketsukami-kun.  _You_  are the one he threatened; I don't care what an idiot like him thinks about me. If you're going to be angry, be angry on your own behalf, not mine!"

He shook his head. She huffed again, knowing well what he was thinking. He believed that he didn't deserve to be defended, that he didn't deserve respect and kind treatment. Why should he be angry at getting what he believed he deserved? She shook her head, willing back tears.

"Come on, let's go home." He nodded silently, now withdrawn to a respectful distance – her bodyguard again rather than her love. Their casual intimacy was gone, and both spent the walk home lost in reveries about their own private scars.

The snow kept up all afternoon and evening, and Ririchiyo was only able to convince Miketsukami that she should keep her birthday plans by reminding him that she would be out with Karuta. How could she be any safer?

Ririchiyo's preparations were painstaking. She ate a small dinner, calculated to keep her from getting hungry but also not to make her feel too full as she danced. She put on and took off makeup a dozen times before she felt she'd reached the right balance of color and subtlety. She dressed with care, practicing walking around her room in the high heels so that she wouldn't make a fool of herself. The balls of her feet ached already, but she could tough it out. At long last, she was ready.

The place her classmates had chosen was dark, full of people shouting to be heard over the bone-tingling beat of the music. They stripped off their coats and scarves, leaving them at a coat rack near the door. Feeling a little paranoid, Ririchiyo hung back with slow-moving Karuta as the other girls flooded gleefully onto the dance floor.

Ririchiyo recoiled, her heart sinking with a sudden realization.

"Ah, Karuta-chan I—ah, I don't know how to dance," she stammered as Karuta took a step towards the dance floor. Bright as a beacon in a shimmering silver dress, her friend ignored her protests, met her eyes, and took her by the hand. Unhesitatingly, she turned and, without another backwards glance, pulled Ririchiyo onto the dance floor.

Unsure what to do, Ririchiyo watched for a moment as Karuta closed her eyes, found the beat of the music, and began to sway and bounce. Uncertain, afraid, but determined not to run, she followed suit as best she could.

By the time the song was over, she'd had a magical realization: no one was watching her. No one cared that she couldn't dance. No one noticed her awkwardness. All of the girls in her class were surrounding them, but they were all dancing with a combination of self-consciousness and joy – for the first time in her life, she felt that she really understood what her classmates were feeling. Following Karuta's lead, she too closed her eyes and let the music surge through her veins, dancing her heart out.

Soon her whole world was sound and movement, sweat trickling down the back of her neck, her feet aching but too much joy flooding through her to want to stop. It was the best birthday she'd ever had.

...

She didn't know how much time had passed – an hour? three? – when her reverie was broken. A scuffle had broken out by the bar, and someone was shouting. She opened her eyes in time to see a couple of burly men – bouncers, she assumed – escorting a group of five or six men out the door. One of them had a black eye; another was bleeding from a split lip.

A cluster of the girls from school had stopped dancing to watch, and were whispering to each other in horror.

"Maybe we should go," said one, an athletic girl with exuberant curls. Her friends made disappointed noises around her, but they were all glancing nervously at the door. The idea of a brawl made this place a lot less attractive!

Ririchiyo had turned to Karuta and opened her mouth to ask what Karuta thought they should do when suddenly Karuta's head snapped towards the door. There was a loud animal yelp from outside, followed by a child's crying.

Karuta was charging at the door before Ririchiyo could say a word. Shaking her head, she ran off after her.

It was snowing in earnest now, and the frigid night wind struck Ririchiyo's bare shoulders like a physical blow. Suppressing a shudder, she followed as closely behind Karuta as she could. The men who'd been kicked out of the club were still gathered near its door, shouting and pushing each other, clearly drunk and furious, each blaming the other for getting the group ejected. One of them was standing in the snow over a litter of puppies and their exhausted mother, with a ragged-looking boy of perhaps eight years old crying on the ground between the dogs and an upturned wagon. The mother was cringing; the man had obviously just taken some of his fury out on her.

"Leave them alone!" the boy sobbed as the man aimed another kick at the dog. Without a flicker of emotion on her face, Karuta grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him, bringing him to his knees with a thud and string of curses. The little boy tried to gather up the puppies, but there were too many of them; they kept squirming out of his grasp to get away.

"Bitch!" came another voice, and in a moment four of the men had surrounded Karuta.

Ririchiyo stepped forward, but before she could intervene, she found herself spun around and struck hard across the face with the back of someone's fist. She went sprawling in the snow, her head slamming against the pavement hard enough to make her see stars. She tasted blood, and was distantly aware of cries and screams from the club doorway. She had an audience; she could not allow herself to transform.

She glanced over to see whether or not she and Karuta could join forces and figure out a way to extract themselves from this situation. Her heart sank at what she saw; Karuta was being pushed farther and farther away from her by the other men, though she was putting up a remarkable fight. She scowled as she looked up into the swirling snow to try to make out who was looming over her.

"You!" she gasped. It was the man from the car earlier that day!

"Me," he sneered. He smacked his friend on the shoulder. "You see this filthy little slut, Sota? This bitch is running around town with the asshole who ruined my sister's life." Ririchiyo crawled backwards as best she could, her high heels scrabbling in the snow. With casual ferocity, he picked her up by the neck and dangled her a foot off the ground.

"You should choose your friends more carefully," he hissed with a cruel smile.

"Hey, man, you planning have some fun with her, or just rough her up a little? Cause I've got some ideas if you're—"

"Shut your mouth, asshole, just take her damn purse and leave me alone," he snarled, ripping Ririchiyo's bag off her shoulder and thrusting it at his companion. "This is personal." His companion shrugged, rifled through Ririchiyo's bag, pulling out her wallet before tossing the rest into the snow and turning to join the others. Ririchiyo could hear that Karuta was still scuffling with the other four men at the other end of the block, but she couldn't see them anymore.

"My sister," the man said, tightening his grip on her throat enough to make Ririchiyo gasp, "was a maid in that asshole's house – a good job, a job that fed her kids. Then that  _mother-fucker_ fucking  _used_  her – he seduced her, fucked her, fucking  _used_  her to worm his way out of the prison where he belonged. That fucking freak, acting like he belongs in the world with normal people – and then as soon as he found someone who'd do him more good, he fucking rejected her. He broke her fucking heart, and then she lost her job because of him. Do you know how hard it is to raise a brood of kids on your own with no fucking job?" He shook her, and she swung from his fist like a ragdoll.

A few of her classmates screamed from the doorway of the club. She couldn't fight him properly here, not with so many people looking on! And if she fought him even in a limited way as a human, there was a real danger it might turn into a brawl and involve her classmates or other humans who might be seriously hurt. As helpless as she felt, even as her vision went dark, there was nothing she could do.

"And here I find him parading around with a slut like you. I wonder how he'd like to lose someone he cares about? Seems to me like it'd fucking serve him right." He tossed her into the side of the building, and she struck her head hard against the brick. For a moment the pain blinded her, and she collapsed in a gasping heap. He towered over her; there was no way she could fight him without transforming. He was just too strong.

She couldn't see the men who were fighting with Karuta anymore, but she determined not to worry; she knew in her heart that Karuta could take them all. Her mind whirling, terror burning in her veins, she searched desperately for any chance of escape. She had to get away. She had to run. In a desperate burst of energy, Ririchiyo braced herself against the brick wall and drove one of her stiletto-clad feet up into the man's crotch.

He doubled over, groaning, and in a single quick move, she grabbed her discarded bag from the snow, kicked off her heels, and took off running as though the hounds of hell were at her heels. Away from the club, away from the man, away from the knowledge of Miketsukami's past. Her bare feet soon lost feeling pounding through the snow, and the wind tore at her bare arms with icy claws. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, burning hot and then freezing cold as the wind chilled them. Still, she ran; she ran until the bars and brightly-lit shops gave way to quiet houses. She had no idea where she was, or where she was going, but the adrenaline in her veins drove her mercilessly. Run.  _Run_.

At long last, she sank to her knees in the snow, gasping. She couldn't – she couldn't run any more. She covered her face with her hands and wept.

...

She didn't know how long she'd been like that when her reason finally came back to her. What had happened, to trigger such an animalistic response in her? Just to run – poor Karuta would be worried. She had to get home – she had to pull herself together. With a grunt, she hauled herself up to her feet, brushed the snow off her legs as well as she could, and took stock.

Her head hurt, her throat hurt, her lip was still bleeding, and she'd have a killer bruise on her jaw soon, if she didn't already. She had no idea where she was, and the snow had already covered her tracks. She was frozen through, likely in shock, and couldn't feel her feet. She was lost in a snowstorm, barefoot, with no coat and no money.

Not a great start.

She opened her purse, hoping against hope that her the one thing that might save her evening hadn't been taken with her wallet. To her unending relief, her little pink phone was still tucked inside. Her hands shaking and numb, she pulled it out and opened it up. It took her three tries, and she dropped the phone once before she managed to dial the number.

"Ririchiyo-sama?"

The sound of Miketsukami's voice undid her, and she let out a strangled sob.

"Ririchiyo-sama?" His voice was more urgent now. "Where are you?"

She looked up at the closest street signs and read off the address. "C—can you come get me?"

"I'm on my way. Where is Roromiya-san?"

"We got separated." She wanted to kick herself – her voice was thick with tears. "I don't want – I mean –" She was stuttering. Pathetic. But panic was welling up in her chest at the thought of waiting alone in the snowy silence. "Miketsukami-kun, can you – can you stay on the phone with me until you arrive?"

He paused. "I won't endanger you by talking and driving at the same time. I'll ask another of the SS agents to drive; I'm sure someone will be in the lounge. Give me a moment to arrange it." She heard the lounge door swing open – he must have left his room as soon as he'd answered the phone. She was shivering uncontrollably now. Doing her best to brush the snow off the top of a low wall, she climbed up and sat, pulling her short dress down as much as she could to protect her thighs – it wasn't more comfortable, but at least it got her feet out of the snow.

"Ririchiyo-sama?"

"Y—yes, I'm here," she stuttered, her teeth chattering.

"Yukinokouji-san and I are on our way. Just hang on a few minutes longer."

"Th—thank you, Miketsukami-k—kun." She felt suddenly exhausted. She pulled her bare knees up in front of her and wrapped her arms around them for warmth. The snow was falling thicker and faster, now, soft against the velvet black of the sky, drifting in the stark circle of gold cast by the streetlamp. Ririchiyo's mind slowed, and a lovely heaviness fell over her limbs – she didn't feel cold anymore, and no longer shivered. Miketsukami spoke softly to her, occasionally demanding small murmured answers. It was only barely enough to keep her from falling asleep.

At long last, a black sedan pulled up next to her. Miketsukami opened the passenger door and met her eyes over the roof of the car. For a moment, he froze, his eyes wide and desperate. Following his eyes down her little frame, she noted distantly that her bare arms and legs were scraped and reddened, her fingers and toes blue against snow that seemed inexplicably splashed with red. She wondered what her face looked like.

Miketsukami didn't seem to be able to move: his eyes were wide, his mouth half-open, as though he'd been in the middle of saying something, but couldn't make the sounds come out.

"Ririchiyo-sama!" he managed at last in a voice of utter panic, vaulting over the car and flying over to her, tearing his coat from his shoulders as he ran. And then she was in his arms, his coat around her shoulders still warm from his body. She turned her face into his shoulder and let her eyes drift closed.

Nobara's usual lecherous banter entirely absent; her eyes were flinty as she stared purposefully ahead. She turned a dial on the dash, and hot air blasted Ririchiyo's body. Miketsukami had stripped off his black gloves, and one burning hand inscribed circles on her feet and legs to get her circulation going again. She gasped and flinched; it felt like she was being branded.

"We should go to the hospital," he said as his other arm tightened protectively around her shoulders. Nobara nodded grimly from behind the wheel.

"No," Ririchiyo managed. One blue and one gold eye stared down at her. "Please, Miketsukami-kun – please just take me home."

"Someone should attend to your lip and your foot, Ririchiyo-sama," he said, his face tight and expressionless. "And you might have frostbite, or even hypothermia."

"My—what's wrong with my foot?"

"Did you not notice the blood? You must have stepped on something sharp."

"Hm," she mused tiredly, "I didn't even feel it." She shook her head again as though to clear the lingering fog and confusion, and turned her face into his lapel. "I just want to go home."

There was a long moment of silence in the car. As the feeling slowly began to return to her skin, she felt as though a thousand red-hot knives were stabbing into her, and she shifted restlessly against Miketsukami's chest, whimpering in pain. He stroked her hair.

"Ririchiyo-sama," Miketsukami started in a low voice. "Who struck you?"

She shook her head, burrowing deeper into his shoulder as though to hide from the pain. "It doesn't matter," she gasped. At least the fog was lifting from her mind; she was beginning to feel sharper, more awake. She tried to divert his attention. "Is Karuta OK?"

"She is fine. Yukinokouji-san called her as we were leaving. She will be glad to know that you've been found." She realized suddenly that of the two of them, Miketsukami was likely in more pain than she – he felt like a coiled spring under her. She felt the sudden urge to stroke his cheek, to kiss him, to somehow reassure him, but was paralyzed by anxiety and guilt. He was more miserable than she had ever seen him – because of her. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with fury and desperation so intense it almost frightened her. He ground the words out with an insistence that brooked no avoidance this time: "Who struck you?"

She looked away. "It was that guy from earlier today," she admitted at last. "He'd been kicked out of the club, and Karuta got jumped by a bunch of his friends, and—" Her voice cracked.

Miketsukami pulled her into a tight embrace, the fingers of one hand threaded through her hair while the other arm wrapped around her back to clutch her close to him. A cold breeze drifted back to them, mingled with heat from the car's vents; Ririchiyo glanced up to see that Nobara had transformed, and her features were set in deadly anger.

"This was my doing," he murmured into her hair, his voice raw with fury and self-loathing.

"No," she whispered desperately. "It was  _his_  doing, because he's a jerk. It doesn't have anything to do with you or his sister—" Realizing suddenly that she'd said too much, she clamped her lips shut.

The damage had been done. "His sister?" Miketsukami pressed. "What did he tell you?"

She shrugged, trying to act like it didn't matter – but she couldn't feign ignorance now. "His sister was a maid in your family's house, and she lost her job after you—I mean, the two of you were—I mean…" She was stammering helplessly. She shook her head. "Apparently she was really sad when you left."

Miketsukami looked forward, his face an expressionless mask, and returned to massaging her feet to warm them. She was desperate to undo whatever she'd done – desperate to make him understand that it wasn't his fault, that everything was all right. She started to reach for him, but drew her hand back before she touched him.

"M—Miketsukami-kun," she started.

"We're here," Nobara interrupted. They were pulling through the gates of Ayakashi Kan.

"But the hospital—" Mikatsukami protested, before being silenced by a withering look from the driver's seat.

"You know better than anyone that how quickly we heal. Ririchiyo-chan will be fine – but she's had a hell of a night, and she needs to rest. If you make her any more miserable than she already is, I will personally freeze all nine of your tails off; am I clear?" A distinct chill had crept into the back seat. Still, he hesitated.

"Please," Ririchiyo whispered. Miketsukami met her eyes mournfully, and ducked his head in acquiescence.

...

Not letting her out of his arms, he darted through the few feet of snowstorm and into the lobby of Ayakashi Kan, heading straight for the elevators. It was late, and the halls were blessedly quiet. No one interrupted them as they made their way to the fourth floor.

He strode purposefully into her room and seated himself on the couch, still carrying her as though she were made of crystal.

"First, I'm going to look at your foot," he said flatly as he pulled over the blanket that lay folded across the couch's back and draped it over her. "Then I will draw you a bath, and you will stay in it until you are fully warmed again. I will look at your lip and bruises before you sleep." His face was uncompromising as a thundercloud. What could she say? She nodded meekly.

He set her delicately on the couch beside him, her legs across his lap, and lifted her left foot. Sure enough, now that it had warmed up some, it was bleeding freely – and now that she had feeling in it, it was excruciatingly painful.

"There's a first-aid kit in the bathroom, behind the mirror" she said with jerk of her chin in the right direction. "There are bandages and antibacterial ointments and things there." He nodded brusquely, slipped out from under her legs, and left her without a word.

Left alone, Ririchiyo covered her face with her hands. How had her little birthday celebration gone so wrong? She'd worried Karuta and inconvenienced Nobara – and worst of all, not only was Miketsukami angry with her, but she could see in his eyes his deep, deep self-loathing. How could she reassure him?

A light touch on her ankle startled her; he had returned with his usual silent grace, and now knelt beside the couch to examine her foot. His black gloves were on the table, along with bandages, sterilizing alcohol wipes, a pair of tweezers, a box of matches, and a small tube of antibacterial ointment.

"There is a piece of glass lodged in your foot," he murmured, not meeting her eyes. "I apologize, Ririchiyo-sama, but it will hurt for me to remove it."

She nodded. "Do what you need to; I'll be fine." Despite her brave words, her heart was pounding, and its echo was throbbing in the sole of her foot.

He disinfected the tweezers with an alcohol wipe, then struck a match to sterilize their tips completely. With sure hands, he grasped her ankle and drew the tweezers out of her line of vision.

A bolt of white-hot pain shot up through her body, making her arch up off the couch, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming. Another bolt, and she writhed in agony, her foot still immobilized by the stone-strong hand at her ankle. Another, and a strangled cry clawed its way out of her throat.

"Done," he said softly, and she collapsed on the couch, gasping. The pain ebbed away, leaving nothing more than a dark throbbing ache in her foot. Blinking a few times to clear her vision, she glanced over at him; he was laying a triangle of bloody glass onto a gauze pad with the tweezers, his other hand pressing more gauze to her wound. She closed her eyes and shuddered.

"You should bathe before I bandage it," he said after a moment, laying the bloody gauze from her foot on top of the glass shard. He took her up in arms again as though she weighed nothing, still wrapped as she was in his jacket and the blanket. "I took the liberty of starting the bath when I was in the bathroom a moment ago; it should be nearly ready." The hurt she could see – the hurt he was so carefully keeping off his face – broke her heart.

"Miketsukami-kun," she whispered, desperate to tell him what was in her heart. "It's not your fault."

"Of course it is," he said evenly, giving her his most practiced servant smile. "That man targeted you because of me, and I was not there to protect you."

She shook her head. "It is  _not_  your fault," she repeated stubbornly as he carried her through her bedroom and into the bathroom. "You can't help that he's a vengeful jerk, and you weren't there because I told you not to be and you respected my wishes. It was an unfortunate series of—"

" _Unfortunate?_ " he hissed as he set her down on the rim of the marble bathtub. The tub was nearly full; he turned the hot water off. "Ririchiyo-sama, do you know what could have happened tonight? What if they'd taken your phone?" His composure was cracking, and his teeth were gritted tightly against his erupting emotions. Ririchiyo wasn't going to sit and be berated, though.

"I would have walked to where the shops were and asked them to call me a taxi," she snapped, throwing the blanket on the bathroom floor. "I could have paid them when I got here. It was stupid of me to run so far, but it's not like I was out of options."

"What if he had been armed?" he retorted, eyes hot. "You could have been  _killed!_ "

"Do I need to remind you what I am? What we both are?" Her voice was rising, exhaustion and frustration combining into near-hysteria. "I can take a human man, Miketsukami – I didn't transform because there were people who would have seen, but you know I'd take being in the tabloids over  _dying_  if it came to that!"

He rose abruptly and turned away from her, his whole form trembling.

"Please enjoy your bath, Ririchiyo-sama," he said, his voice that false, empty one that she hated more than anything. "I will warm your nightclothes in the dryer for when you're done."

"Ugh!" she cried in frustration, wishing she had something to throw at the door as he closed it behind him.

There was nothing for it, though; she wasn't really in any shape to go chasing after him, and she didn't know what she'd say to him in any case. She sighed and began undressing. As she drew his jacket off her shoulders and hung it carefully from a hook, her anger evaporated into mere exhaustion; her knight in shining armor. Tonight had been perhaps harder on him than on her. She called out to him through the closed door.

"Miketsukami-kun?"

"Yes, Ririchiyo-sama."

"Would you do something for me while I'm bathing? A favor?"

"Of course."

"Would you change into your casual clothes, please? And your glasses."

Silence.

"Please?"

After another moment's hesitation, he answered. "As you wish. I will return momentarily."

She hissed in pain as her feet touched the hot water; it scalded her still-cold flesh, and a cloud of red spread slowly out from the injured one. Gradually, though, she was able to ease herself into the water, and eventually the searing pain eased. At last it embraced her like an old friend. She worried briefly about the wisdom of soaking an open wound – she'd much rather have just cleaned it and bandaged it. She healed quickly, though, thanks to her supernatural blood, so she decided not to worry too much about it. The delicious, near-painful heat of the bath was just what she needed. The deepest cold slowly ebbed from her bones, leaving her feeling safe and languid and much, much more like herself.

The water had lost the uncomfortable edge of its heat when she decided that she needed to face Miketsukami again. She dried herself off with a bedsheet-sized towel, wrapped it around herself, pressed a washcloth hard against her bleeding foot, and headed for her bedroom, hopping awkwardly to try to avoid getting blood on the floor.

Sure enough, a nightshirt and pair of soft shorts were warmed and waiting for her on her bed. Shaking her head at his thoughtfulness, she dressed.

She found him sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He was wearing a black v-neck sweater and blue jeans, and his glasses. She couldn't help but smile – her love, her partner. Not her bodyguard. She hop-walked a few steps across the room before he saw her and swept her into his arms again. She let out a little chuckle.

"If I were shameless, I'd say I should hurt my foot more often."

His expression didn't change. He laid her out on the couch and lifted her foot again, inspecting the wound carefully.

"It doesn't appear inflamed. I'll keep an eye on it, but I expect it to heal with no problems."

"I'm not worried about my foot, Miketsukami-kun."

He carefully applied antibiotic ointment to a sterile bandage, then pressed the bandage to her foot. Gauze and tape, and she was no longer in danger of bleeding all over her lovely rug. She assessed his handiwork, twisting her foot this way and that to get a look at it.

"Not half bad," she snorted. "You never considered a career in healthcare?"

Again, his expressionless mask didn't waver. He caught her chin in one hand, tilting her head a bit to see the cut on her lip better. He dabbed at it with an alcohol wipe, which burned enough to make her eyes water, but then left it be. He didn't release her chin, though; rather, he tilted her head a bit more, to get a look at the bruise on her jaw. His eyes were dark with emotion, his mask tightening. Suddenly he seemed to notice something else; his eyes were on her neck.

"Did he—did he choke you?" His voice was low and threatening, violence blooming in his eyes.

"Miketsukami-kun," she whispered, sitting up and reaching out to lay a hand on his cheek. "It doesn't matter. It's over. I'm safe – and I'm here with you. Please—please be here with me, too." He closed his eyes, fury and guilt and sadness warring on his features.

"Why did you ask me to change clothes?" he asked abruptly, without opening his eyes.

"I don't want my bodyguard right now, I want the man I love."

"I am  _both_ ," he cried, his eyes flying open. "What kind of love is it if I fail to protect you? What kind of dog am I—?"

"Miketsu—" She stopped herself, and drew a deep breath. It was time to do something terrifying. She braced herself and forced the word out. " _Soushi_."

He looked as though she'd struck him. "Ri—ri—" His eyes were wide, his lips just barely parted. She squirmed uncomfortably, worried that she'd made a mistake. Was he offended?

"I don't—should I not…?"

"No," he gasped, catching one of her hands between his own. "I don't deserve—"

"Oh, shut up," she interrupted crossly, making him start. "Don't you give me that nonsense. Of course you do. You deserve kindness and respect and affection. And in any case, whatever you deserve, I  _want_  to be close to you." She relented, biting her lip nervously at the thought he might not actually like her to use his given name. "Is it – is it OK if I—?"

"Yes," he whispered, his eyes full of unshed tears. "Please."

She let out a long breath. "OK. Then. Soushi-kun, I'd like you to do something for me." He nodded eagerly. "Stop being so cruel to the man I love." He blinked a few times before he understood her meaning, then he surged forward to catch her in his arms.

"Is this really all right?" he whispered. "Is it really all right for me to hold you like this, to feel such happiness? Even when I've failed you?"

She threaded her fingers through his hair, massaging gently at his scalp and the muscles of his neck. He groaned into her shoulder.

"You haven't failed me," she whispered. "And yes." The next thing she knew, his lips were pressed to hers.

Needing more than anything to be close to him, she did not shy away this time as she had so many others. She melted into this kiss, twining her arms around his neck as he pulled her off the couch and pressed her body flush against him. A moan broke from her when he nipped softly at her bottom lip, and suddenly she felt the brush of his tongue against hers. Electricity shot through her limbs, and she fisted her hands in his hair, drawing a groan from him. One of his hands was skimming desperately up and down her back, while the other was threaded through her hair, anchoring her in the sea of sensation that threatened to swallow her up.

"Soushi," she whispered as his lips left a burning trail down her neck. He nipped playfully at her shoulder, earning him a gasp – then a wanton moan, as he discovered that drawing Ririchiyo's earlobe into his mouth melted her into a puddle of desire. She arched against him, and it was as though something broke in him; he clutched her tight, burying his face in her hair.

At last, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against her shoulder, his breathing labored.

"Ririchiyo-sama," he started, his voice dark and husky. "It's very late, and you're exhausted. You should sleep."

She blinked, trying to clear the haze of need from her mind. Disappointment and shame chilled her desire. "You don't want—?"

"Of course I do," he interrupted, drawing back to meet her eyes. She saw absolute sincerity there. "Ririchiyo-sama, you are everything I have ever wanted. But are you truly ready, or were you just caught up in the moment?"

She frowned, realizing with sudden certainty that he was right. She wasn't ready. The thought of total intimacy – the thought of giving herself in quite that way – was overwhelming, and terrifying. Of course she loved him, and he was the one she wanted to share herself with – but not yet. She sighed.

"I hate it when you know me better than I do," she grumbled. He laughed softly, his eyes warm and kind.

He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "I'll take you to your room."

She put her arms around his neck and allowed herself to be lifted up again. He lay her gently on her bed, and began to draw back. She grabbed his hand before he could.

"Soushi," she whispered. "You're right, I'm not ready for … for sex. But –" She bit her lip. Could she ask this of him?

"Ririchiyo-sama," he murmured softly. "I will do anything for you. Just tell me what you want."

She sighed. "For starters, can you drop the 'sama' nonsense? If Karuta and Nobara can call me 'Chiyo-chan' you can at least drop the ridiculous honorifics."

He blinked, and burst into laughter. The sound was spontaneous and joyful, like nothing she'd heard from him before; it curled around something in her belly, warm as sunshine. She couldn't help but smile.

"Ririchiyo-chan," he whispered, the remnants of laughter still crinkling his eyes. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes.

"Stay with me?" she whispered. He froze, and she opened her eyes again. He was searching her face. She was suddenly abashed by her brazen request – but it had been made, so she plowed onward. "Could you just … sleep here with me? Would—would that be OK?"

A smile broke over his face like the rising sun. He nodded.

Rather than just getting into bed with her right away, he left her bedroom and spent a few moments making rounds in her apartment – cleaning up the first aid supplies, turning off lights. Ririchiyo held her breath the whole time. At last, though, he returned to her.

Glasses on the bedside table. Black sweater folded tidily and placed on top of her dresser; he was wearing a black t-shirt under it. A moment's hesitation before his jeans came off as well. At last, wearing just boxers and his undershirt, he clicked off the bedside lamp and slid into bed beside her.

Barely daring to breathe, Ririchiyo reached out a tentative hand in the darkness. His hand found hers. She scooted closer to him, finally drawing near enough to rest her head on his shoulder, laying her hand lightly on his chest. He gathered her into his arms and stroked her hair, his breath warm on her forehead and ruffling her bangs. She had never felt such closeness, such perfect peace. Nothing had ever felt so right. A heavy languor crept over her limbs, and she slept.

...

She woke the next morning with Soushi's warm body pressed to her back, her head pillowed on one strong arm and the other wrapped protectively around her waist, holding her to his chest. His breathing was slow and even; he was still asleep. Bright morning sunlight spilled across the bed, lighting up fine pale hairs on his arm. She closed her eyes and smiled, determining to remember this moment for the rest of her life.

Behind her, Soushi sighed and shifted, pulling her closer to him and nuzzling gently at her hair. She lay one slender hand over his at her waist.

"Good morning." The words were so soft she barely heard them, breathed into her hair like a prayer.

"Good morning," she whispered in response, her face heating. She was in  _bed_  with a  _man!_  But it was Miketsuk—it was Soushi. She smiled.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mm," she murmured, stretching to test her muscles. She felt bruised and battered, and every fiber of her body protested the movement. Thinking about the sweetness of her experience with Soushi the previous night, though, she couldn't bring herself to regret a moment of it. "A little sore, but otherwise fine."

His arms tightened around her, pressing her to his chest. "And your foot?"

It throbbed as though it had been run through with hot iron. "Hurts. But it'll heal."

He sighed, his breath ruffling her hair and brushing ticklishly across her shoulder. "Forgive me," he whispered into her neck. The movement of his lips against her tender skin sent bolts of pure sensation all through her body. She shivered violently.

"Are you cold?" His voice had dropped to a register that made her want to squirm. He stroked her arm languidly. She shut her eyes tight and shook her head. "Then – why are you shivering?" He leaned forward and breathed the words into her ear. She whimpered and arched against him.

Something hard pressed against her rear. She froze, feeling her face go crimson. That was—that…!

"My apologies," came Soushi's voice, low and husky in her ear. "I can control my actions, Ririchiyo-sama, but I cannot stop myself from wanting you."

She wriggled in his grasp, trying to draw away from him and the prominent evidence of the truth of his words, but only succeeded rubbing herself rather salaciously against him.

"May I request, Ririchiyo-sama, that you cease that particular movement?" His voice was positively  _hungry_ , and he pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder. Fire shot through her veins, overwhelming her embarrassment; she couldn't hold back a moan.

"I th-thought I told you," she gasped. "No honorifics!"

He trailed delicious kisses up her neck, nipping gently at the tender skin, until he reached her ear. " _Ririchiyo_ ," he whispered, tugging on her earlobe with his teeth. Moaning, she arched her back, rubbing herself shamelessly against him. His gasp sent shocks down her spine. Something molten and desperate was coiling deep in her belly, and it craved – it  _needed_.

"S—Soushi," she whimpered, "please!"

He growled, a low, feral sound, and rolled her onto her back. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and serious.

"Ririchiyo," he said, slowly and distinctly. "We will go as far as you wish and no farther. We both know there is one line that must not be crossed as yet, but remember: you have all the control. If you wish to take the lead and guide our actions, I will follow without pressing; if you wish me to lead, always remember that a single word from you will stop me, with no questions or recrimination."

She nodded, her blood thundering in her ears. He lay a gentle kiss on the unhurt corner of her mouth. He drew back and smiled down at her, that tender smile that made her heart clench in her chest. His mismatched eyes glowed in the morning sun.

He lowered his head to nuzzle gently at her neck. "So tell me, my lady," he murmured into her skin. "Would you like your humble servant to do what he can to please you?"

Ririchiyo's head was spinning; both her sharp retorts and her awkwardness were washed away in the sheer newness of all these strange sensations. But she did know one thing: she would not be another woman that Miketsukami merely served.

"No," she gasped at last, laying a hand on his shoulder and pushing gently. He withdrew at once, watching her face carefully. She shook her head, not wanting him to misunderstand. "I want this," she said, sitting up and pushing more insistently at him, guiding him off her, then down to the bed beside her. "I want you." Surprised by her own daring, she kissing the hollow of his throat. "But I am not your lady, and you are not my servant." She straddled his waist, looking down at his wide, surprised eyes – it seemed he'd been caught completely off-guard. Good. "I want your guidance, but only to show me how to please  _you_."

"It—it pleases me to serve you," he stammered, looking as uncomfortable as she had ever seen him.

"I know," she whispered, mimicking his earlier gesture and tugging on his earlobe with her teeth. He hissed and arched off the bed. "But Soushi, if we are going to be a couple, you are going to have to learn that I am  _going_  to make you breakfast in bed—" here she leaned down to kiss his jaw, her long hair falling in dark curtains on either side of them "—make you coffee—" she pressed a series of feather-light kisses to his shoulder "—rub your shoulders—" she slid her hands down his chest, then up under his shirt "—and you  _will_ let me bring you all the pleasure I can." She withdrew and looking down at him; he was flushed and panting beneath her, eyes wide and shocked. "Now take your shirt off."

Wordlessly, he drew the t-shirt over his head and cast it off the edge of the bed. Looking down at his chest, Ririchiyo was suddenly very conscious of her inexperience – what was she going to do now?

She bit her lip, deciding that the best course of action was to ask. "Will you tell me what you want, Soushi?" she whispered, trailing a delicate fingertip from his breastbone down to his navel. He shivered.

"Ri—Ririchiyo-sama," he gasped. He looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes. "There is nothing you can do that won't bring me pleasure." He swallowed, clearly trying to regain some of his usual unflappable composure. Not what she was hoping for.

"Hmph!" she snorted, tossing her head disdainfully. "Well, if you won't tell me, then my only choice is to learn for myself." She looked over the half-naked man spread docilely out before her, and smiled wickedly, that strange hot coil in her belly tightening again.

Ririchiyo was a methodical woman. She was thorough, meticulous. She was the consummate student; the scientific method was her guiding principle. Interacting with people was harder – people were messy, illogical, contradictory, complicated – oh, but give her some new topic to explore, and she would learn it inside and out.

Inch by inch, she explored Soushi's body with tentative fingertips, soft kisses, and – when earlier explorations got a particularly vehement reaction from him – a questing tongue or the scrape of her teeth. She found – scientifically – that he loved being bitten on the neck and shoulders, that his nipples were so sensitive that he writhed under her in something between agony and ecstasy when she pulled them gently between her teeth, that flicking her tongue against the inside of his wrist wrung profanity from him, that the bottom of his ribcage was wildly ticklish, and that a kiss in the hollow of his hip had him begging for mercy.

At long last, she felt she had adequately explored the territory provided her thus far. She was a quick study, and was developing a sense for what he liked – firm pressure, a bit of teeth, and he  _particularly_  liked it when she met his eyes as she was doing it. She was now as well-prepared as she could possibly be for the next step. She tried to pretend she wasn't trembling.

"Off," she said peremptorily, pointing at his boxers. Soushi surged upward to capture her lips in a desperate kiss, flipping her onto her back and kneeling over her. She squealed as the world upturned itself, laughing delightedly at the rain of kisses as he settled himself on top of her. She would allow a brief detour.

At last, though, she withdrew; his kisses were delicious, but she had a point to make. She lay her finger across his lips and turned her head to the side when he tried to reclaim her mouth.

"Off," she said again, pointing down his body. He tried once more to kiss her, and once more was rebuffed.

With a huff, Soushi clambered off her and stood briefly by the bedside with his back to her. He appeared to have a moment's hesitation before hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers.

"There is no need—"

"Off," she reminded him, fighting a smile.

"But you don't have to—"

"Soushi!" she cried in mock exasperation. His shoulder slumped a little, and he slid his boxers down his legs. She had a momentary glimpse of his rear before he turned around, and she forgot what she'd been thinking.

Since they had started dating, she'd tried to educate herself – as subtly as possible – by sneaking glances at the most embarrassing books and magazines in the public library. Despite that, she felt woefully unprepared, and frankly terrified. What was she going to do with it? What if she was no good? What if she couldn't please him? What if he was just left frustrated and wanting?

"Like what you see?" he asked with a small smile, lying down next to her again.

She panicked, and tossed her hair in what she knew was a particularly bratty way. "Hmph! Don't know why you'd be so proud of—" She was interrupted by a kiss.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered into her ear. "Remember: you are in complete control. I have already experienced more happiness today than I dared to hope for across my whole lifetime. Any moment you're overwhelmed, we'll stop."

Her heart melted.  _Soushi_. She kissed him back with abandon, throwing herself into his arms with enough force to knock him on his back on the bed. Their tongues tangled together, igniting her blood and leaving her gasping – but she would not be sidetracked.

She had learning to do.

Tentatively, hesitantly, she began her exploration. The skin of the shaft was soft as silk over steel, and felt hot enough to burn her. She skimmed lightly up and down, then circled the tip with an exploratory fingertip. Soushi sighed and shifted, eyes hooded. More, then.

She wrapped her little hand around the base of her new toy, stroking it gently up then back down. He grunted softly and lay a hand on her hair, his eyes devouring her every movement. More. She wrapped both hands around him and stroked him firmly from root to tip. A muffled curse broke from his mouth.  _Better_.

Finally, no longer able to brook her curiosity, she leaned down and dragged the flat of her tongue across the head, beaded as it was with pearly liquid. His hands fisted in the bedsheets, and he arched up off the bed.

"Ririchiyo-sama!" he cried as she swirled her tongue determinedly around the tip. "Please—you don't need to—don't lower yourself—" She pulled as much of his cock into her mouth as she could manage, and his protests trailed off into a breathy groan.  _Yes._

Her whole body thrilled with power as he trembled and writhed under her touch. She sucked and lapped at him – he tasted strange, musky and warm, but his heat and his need were making her insides melt. She coordinated her hand and her mouth, as though her hands were an extension of her throat; he gasped raggedly and let out a moan. She fell into a steady rhythm, keeping it up until her jaw was aching and the muscles of her hands were cramping. She didn't care; Soushi was whimpering, his head thrashing back and forth. It was worth  _anything_.

"Ah!" he cried sharply. "Stop, please stop!"

She jerked back, startled. "What's wrong?" His breathing was labored, his eyes dark and pained. She must have hurt him. "Are you all right? What did I do?"

He slid his hand into her hair, then down to caress her cheek.

"That was … magnificent," he stammered, his voice weak. "But I can't bear any more, or I will – I will not allow you to debase yourself by—" He shook his head. "I cannot allow myself to finish in your mouth."

She blinked at him, then snorted in reflexive disdain. "Hmph!" Her hair swung as she turned her head, her eyes closed. "Did you really think I'd start on something and not see it through?" She recalled herself and met his eyes, a sudden shyness stealing over her. "I want to do nice things for you," she said softly. "Please let me do this."

All of the defenses had fallen from Soushi's usually-guarded face, and he stared at her with adoration, guilt, hope, horror, gratitude, and need all swirling in his eyes. Smiling that heartrending smile – the one that looked like he was about to cry – he closed his mouth and nodded once.

She didn't take her eyes off him as she returned to her task. Even when she drew him deep into her mouth again and he groaned and clenched his hands in the sheets, their eyes were locked; he didn't seem able to look away from her.

Deep, hard. Faster. His eyes were molten gold and deep, deep sea; his face was flushed, his breathing erratic. He bucked against her once, nearly causing her to gag, but still she couldn't tear her eyes off him. His undoing was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"Ririchiyo-sama," he cried, laying a hand on her head as though in benediction, his eyes lit with joy and love. "Ririchiyo! I—ah!" She tightened her grip and sped up her movements, her eyes not leaving his.

With a groan torn from the roots of his heart, his body convulsed in a shuddering curl up off the bed as a gush of something warm and salty filled her mouth. Ririchiyo swallowed; it wasn't near as bad as some of the magazines had made it sound. She licked the last few drops from the tip of him, making him twitch and shudder.

He flopped back onto the bed, gasping, and she drew back from him. Suddenly a little shy, she hesitated. What was she supposed to do now?

With effort, he raised his head and held out one arm to her. Shimmying up his naked form, she allowed herself to be pulled into a tight embrace. He nuzzled her cheek, then squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against her shoulder. His breath was still coming in ragged gasps. She twined her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his hair.

Suddenly a shudder wracked his frame. Ririchiyo froze, panicking. What was wrong? He shook in her arms, his face still hidden against her. Something hot and wet slid down her neck. He was – he was crying? He was  _crying_.

She clutched him tight against her, practically curling her body around his head. He wept, gasping her name. She had never felt less sure of herself – but something told her that now was a critical moment. She could not allow herself to retreat just because she was frightened. He needed her. Not knowing what else to do, she simply held him tight, rubbing soothing circles in his hair.

"It's all right," she whispered helplessly. "It's all right; I'm here." He shook his head into her shoulder. "Shh, it's all right – let it out." His arms tightened around her, and he let out another shuddering sob. "I'm here."

At long last, his sobs began to slow. "Forgive me," he whispered brokenly. "Forgive me – I don't know what—"

She kissed his forehead. "It's all right," she whispered again.

He shook his head, his breath hot on her collarbone. "Such weakness is unforgivable—"

"It's  _all right_ ," she repeated more firmly. She looked away from him for a moment, though she knew he couldn't have seen her discomfort. "I'm – I'm honored." She closed her eyes and swallowed. "That you trust me, that you share yourself with me. All of you."

He pressed feverish kisses to her throat. "Thank you," he whispered against her skin. "Thank you, Ririchiyo-sama."

She stroked his hair gently, marveling at its softness. He drew her tight to him, drawing deep, calming breaths. Ririchiyo closed her eyes, doing the same. Calm. Peace. In, out. Calming the body, calming the mind. In, out. Everything was all right.

A small snore broke the silence; Soushi had fallen asleep. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but it was also so sweet, his trusting head resting on her chest … she closed her eyes, and allowed herself to drift off as well.

...

The midmorning sun was bright when Ririchiyo woke again. She was still curled protectively around Soushi's head, and his arms were around her, his face pressed to her shoulder. She realized suddenly what had woken her: he was brushing feather-light kisses across her collarbone. She shivered.

"I'm sorry for waking you," he whispered, looking up to meet her eyes. His eyes did not look sorry; he looked wicked – and very, very pleased with himself. She smiled and shook her head, twining her fingers through his hair.

Wrapped his arms more firmly around her, he rolled over, pinned her under him. His eyes alight with mischief and joy, he showered her with exuberant kisses. He nipped at her lower lip, then moved to her cheek, her jaw, her neck. Down her throat, her shoulder, then – down? Ririchiyo's face heated as she realized that while she'd been distracted by his kisses, his nimble fingers had been busily unbuttoning her nightshirt from the bottom. Now it lay open, only barely concealing her nipples. Suddenly shy, she tried to cross her arms over her chest.

"That won't do," he said softly, a predatory smirk on his face. "Don't tell me I need to tie you down?"

She gasped, a dart of heat jolting through her at the thought of being tied helplessly to the bed while Soushi had his way with her. But still – how could she just shameless display herself to him?

"But I'm – I'm not –" she stuttered, unable to give voice to her embarrassment. "I'm so—"

"So beautiful," he murmured into her collarbone, nuzzling her shirt with his cheek and brushing it aside. "So perfect."

She had opened her mouth for a rebuttal when his lips found her nipple and her mind seized. She arched like a bow, thrusting her chest upward and deeper into his mouth. He groaned against her, flicking her nipple with a daring tongue.

"Perfect," he whispered again, teasing her other nipple with a bold fingertip. Her belly tightened, a delicious heat pooling between her legs.

His hands slid down her little frame as though sculpting her from clay; down to her hips, back up to cup her breasts, back down. When they reached the edge of her shorts again, Miketsukami raised his head to meet her eyes, obviously looking for permission. She bit her lip and turned her face away.

Then slowly, shakily, uncertainly, she nodded.

It was all the acquiescence he needed. In a single deft move he swept her shorts down her legs, then surged back up at her with a delicate ankle on each of his strong shoulders. She squealed, pulling her legs together – how could she be so shameless?! She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away from him.

His hands, warm and reassuring, rested on her hips. He waited until she opened her mortified eyes. Delicately, deliberately, his eyes never leaving hers, he planted an open-mouthed kiss on her ankle.

Fire shot up her leg and ignited the need in the pit of her stomach. She moaned wantonly despite herself.

Another kiss, barely an inch up her calf. Another. Another. She watched helplessly as he kissed up to her knee, then farther up. She was shivering uncontrollably, desperate and aching but still so unsure.

As he reached her upper thigh, he leaned his cheek against her tender skin and smiled up at her. She reached down to lay a hand on his tousled silver hair, almost whimpering at the tenderness in his eyes.  _Soushi._  Drawing a deep breath, she willed herself to relax.

Miketsukami's smile turned wicked. With no further notice, he parted her with his fingers and delved into her with a questing tongue.

Ririchiyo arched of the bed with a sharp cry, her fingers knotting in his hair. He offered her no reprieve; he buried his face in her, tilting her hips up with strong hands for easier access, stroking her hard and fast at the core of all her pleasure. Her whole world reduced itself to an onslaught of sensation. Gone was his gentle, slow, obliging demeanor; he was devouring her ravenously, desperately, giving her no respite from the knife-sharp pleasure. Her hips and legs were shuddering helplessly, fire winding through her veins and leaving her toes curled and her fingers clawing at the sheets hard enough to tear them. Nothing, nothing in her life had prepared her for the sheer intensity of what she was feeling.

She looked down to see that Miketsukami's eyes were closed in bliss, his hands clenched on her hips. The coil in her belly tightened at his obvious pleasure; she bucked involuntarily up into his mouth, and he groaned into her around the movement of his tongue.

The heat and pleasure on his face set off a chain reaction inside her. The coil tightened, tightened, and she arched off the bed, begging and pleading and she didn't know what else. Miketsukami redoubled his attentions, moaning appreciatively at the sounds of her pleasure – and the coil inside her snapped. She screamed his name, convulsing in ecstasy, and he continued to lap gently at her as she rode out wave upon wave of mind-searing bliss.

Ririchiyo closed her eyes as the twitching of her body slowed and calmed, trying desperately to catch her breath and slow the pounding of her heart. She'd had orgasms before, courtesy of her own curious fingers – but never,  _never_  had she felt anything like that. She had no idea her body was capable of so much sensation.

She opened her eyes at last to find Miketsukami sitting between her legs, looking at her face with such earnest joy that her heart clenched in her chest.

"Th-thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse and weak. "That was—" Words failed her.

He smiled, stretching himself out next to her. She had never seen him look so happy, so perfectly sated. "Yes," he agreed softly, "it was." He kissed her forehead, brushing her bangs gently out of her eyes. Her eyelids were heavy; despite all the extra sleep she'd had that night, she suddenly felt exhausted.

"Rest," he whispered into her hair, gathering her to him and covering her with the blanket.

"You won't leave?" she murmured sleepily, eyes already closed.

"Never." The word echoed through her mind as she drifted into sleep. Lifetime after lifetime with Soushi by her side, she mused. Forever. She smiled, and slipped into happy dreams under the watchful gaze of mismatched eyes.


End file.
